


Children of War

by TheLovelyPatronus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Feels, Friendship, Gen, One Shot, Sad Harry, Short, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLovelyPatronus/pseuds/TheLovelyPatronus





	

Sirius Black was dead. The only family Harry had left was dead. He was only 15 and yet somehow, he was an orphan all over again. He didn’t even know that was possible, but here he was. He felt as though he’d never catch a break. Famous Harry Potter, The boy who was doomed to lose everyone he loved.

He had somehow gotten back to Hogwarts and to his room following the debacle in the ministry, yet he had no memory of it. The hours following Sirius’ death where a blur to him. He faintly recalled watching the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort, camera flashes and a firm hand on his shoulder. Nothing else registered besides his locking of the door in Gryffindor tower and the wish to be left alone.

The anger had taken hold now, he preferred to be alone to ensure no one could see this most ugly side of him. He wanted to destroy, to cause pain, to break everything within arms reach. If only to ease the destruction within his own heart. He had torn the curtains off of the bed, ripping them to shreds as he went. He threw delicate glass instruments and watched them tinkle to the floor in a shower of sparkling chaos. He had flung a Diffindo at his bed and watched it explode to tiny splinters and fluff. Finally he reached his trunk and started throwing everything he owned from it.

Clothes and school supplies littered the floor around him when he noticed a particular glint in his school trunk. It was the mirror, the one given to him by Sirius in order to keep in touch. How stupid he was, how careless and unforgivable was he. There it was, the simple object could have saved so much grief and heartache. If only he had used it the way it was intended, if only be had tried to contact Sirius through the mirror instead of running off half cocked and getting his godfather killed and his friends hospitalized.

He was to blame for all of it. He collapsed to the floor, surrounded by splinters, glass, and clothes. Dropping his head in his hands, he sobbed. He cried for the future he had lost, the family he had never had, the war that threatened to take what was left of his life, and finally, he cried for himself, for the boy who’d never live a normal life.

****

Four days had passed since Sirius’ death. The days had started blending into each other. Harry had not moved from his bed, Dumbledore having excused him from classes for the next week.

His eyes were crusty with tears, his muscles weak from being underused. He didn’t understand. Was he cursed? He was a danger to everyone around him, that was why he had shut himself away from everyone. Sirius was the last of the family he had. The last link to his parents. He was alone now.

Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew Ron and Hermione would follow him anywhere. That they would help with whatever came his way. He wasn’t going to let them, however. He’d be damned if he allowed one more person to get hurt or die for him. As far as he was concerned, he had caused enough damage for one lifetime. Whatever vendetta Voldemort had against him, it was his alone to deal with.

So absorbed by his thoughts was he that he didn’t hear the door creak open. Did not notice the curtain around his bed being moved aside. He barely even felt the weight settle on either side of him. Hermione had laid with her front to his back, one arm around him hugging him tightly to her. Ron had laid down facing him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. They laid like that for hours, Harry silently absorbing the comfort they were trying to channel into him. He felt a little better, having them there, but his heart was still heavy. His mind still looping the scene of Sirius’ death.

“We love you, Harry. We’re here for you. Please talk to us.” Hermione had whispered into the dark. She was still hugging him. He choked back another sob. Funny, he thought he was all cried out.

“Harry, mate. You have to talk to someone. Please, you’re starting to scare us.” Ron said as he squeezed Harry’s hand harder.

Harry wondered if he even had the strength to speak. It had been 4 days since he’d uttered even a single word. Would his voice even work anymore?

“Just-just stay with me, please. You two are all I have left.” and he broke down. The sobs coming anew, forming tears he thought long dried up.

Ron wanted to tell him that he had the whole of the Wizarding world behind him, including Ron’s own family. Hermione wanted to tell him that he was being stupid, that  he had both of them, not to mention Dumbledore.

They both remained quiet. They had laid in his bed in silence, not knowing how else to comfort their best friend. Finally, after almost six hours of sobbing, then tears, and finally sniffles, Harry had fallen asleep. Hermione and Ron took this opportunity to speak to Dumbledore. He had told them that this was normal, that each person grieved in their own way and this was simply Harry’s way. They were to be there for him as much as he would allow and to not push him faster than he was willing to go.

So they had found themselves back by his side. Hermione carrying a tray of food for him. After all, he refused to eat on his own. They laid back down with him and held him as he cried again. It broke their heart. The boy who lived had lost too much, he was only fifteen! This was not fair. This was war, however, and war was never fair, even to children too young to be fighting in the first place.


End file.
